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Steve "KingSlayer" Davids · (08-05-2014)

He dreamt in magical mist. Well that’s all it was. Nothing other than a dream. In reality, Cain stands little chance against the force of Steve Davids and I believe that ‘The First Killer’ knows this.

He knows what we all know. That he is doomed to fail. He can tell as many tales from a book filled with lies as he likes, nobody is listening.

The thing is, it’s like I have said many times before, there is only one true god… The god that Cain shall be meeting sooner rather than later, Death.

I sat by the fire on the cold summer’s evening, wearing nothing other than a dressing gown and some slippers. Today was the day I spent as a 60 year old man rather than a middle-aged wrestler. It tortured me being so far from the city in these secluded woods but I knew that I could not leave. Not yet. My brother remained in a state of depression, with an easy way out on his mind at all times.

Pierre, my brother’s employee insisted that I could not protect my brother forever. Especially not from himself. What could I do though?

I am already almost entirely numb due to losing everyone else that I have ever loved. In a way, it did feel like I was simply delaying the inevitable and I am not sure that Morgan was getting any enjoyment out of his life anymore. There must be a solution, but what?

Pierre entered the room, he was in a suit and carried two glasses of whisky. He handed me one, silently as he sat down on the chair opposite the sofa. the strange thing about this room was there was no television so there was nothing for the chairs and sofa to be directed at other than each other.

He looked at me for a moment, clearly contemplating.

“You know there’s nothing that you can do? Don’t you?” Pierre asked with a quiet whisper and an eyebrow raised.

“There’s always something that can be done. I’m just not quite sure what it is yet,” I responded quietly. We both feared that Morgan may be listening.

“I am telling you now, Steve, that man is beyond saving. He is too far gone,” his voice echoed around the room as he began to get angrier.

“No one is too far gone. I was told that I was too far gone when I used to butcher people in order to satisfy my craving for chaos, now chaos follows me but I do not search for it. We can save him, I know it,” I tried to convince Pierre before taking a swig of my whisky.

“I just don’t want to see him become another news story of the man who went crazy. I knew him when he was a sane man and he was kind and caring. He never held anything against anyone, and he truly did love you. It’s a shame you have had to watch him become a shell of the man that he once was. You both really deserve so much more, but both of you have a horrid past and it will haunt you until the end of your days because that’s history’s cruel way. You have your wrestling, which you love more than any person. He’s lost his wife, he’s lost the majority of his family, he is left with nothing. He has no reason to cling onto his life anymore. Why would he want to wake up in the morning? To continue his business? So he can provide for who exactly? You don’t understand Steve, yes he’s a successful business man but he doesn’t have a passion for it anymore like you do for wrestling. He has nothing. He is nothing,” I could see the whole experience had physically and emotionally taken it out of Pierre. His words struck my core and all I could think about was how much he had been drained by all of this. As anyone can imagine, I know how much death can take it’s toll on a man.

I continued to try and think of a solution.

“There must be something that he loves, that he enjoys more than anything. If we were to find him something else to drive towards he might not be in such a state,” I knew that I was grasping at straws here but something had to be gone. I couldn’t let another member of my family burn.

I held my glass up to Pierre, we clinked glasses and drank the rest of our whisky before sitting in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry Steve, but I meant what i said. He is too far gone,” Pierre placed his glass on the side table before making his way to Morgan’s room.

The frenchman was swift in his stride. I followed behind him.

We got to Morgan’s room and opened the door slowly, expecting him to be asleep.

Emptiness. Eeriness.

The room was empty and a howling wind flew through his bedroom window. I rushed to the window, Morgan was getting into his car with a suitcase. He looked up at me, a tear trickled down his face and he mimed the words, “goodbye, brother.”

Then, in his land rover he rushed off into the distance immediately. I was fast into my room and desperately put some jeans on and grabbed a tee-shirt.

As I tried to leave the house though, Pierre had me in.

“What are you doing!?” I bellowed as Pierre scurried into his jaguar sports car.

“I am sorry Steve, but he needs this… you have got to let go,” he spoke with sadness in his voice as I banged at the door for a moment.

I ran to the back door now and luckily I managed to escape the elephantine house and into my old Ford escort that was refusing to start at first attempt.

“Typical,” I said to myself, softly.

Where would he have gone?

Both Pierre and Morgan were nowhere to be seen but I drove to the one place I knew how to get to. Swanpool beach, the same place I would go.

The summer rains began to fall down on my car. I pulled up at the beach, but there was no one to be seen. Merely rocks and sand and sea.

I slammed my fist into the sand and begun to weep slightly. This was going to be the end for my family.

The only person I had left seemed to be fading, along with any chance I have of retaining my Television Championship on Madness at this rate. I say this because time was going by and I hadn’t got a single bit of training in.

Then I looked in the back of the car, where my Television Championship and briefcase had been stored. I pulled them to the passenger’s seat and I merely gazed into the belt’s golden gleam. I had longed to hold this belt for eternity, and here it’s reign is being overshadowed by the man who at one point had wished death upon me. Why did I want to save this man? He was my brother, all natural instinct told me I was doing the right thing. But why? My instinct had changed.

I am no longer the killer that I once was. Perhaps that made me weak. Or perhaps I had merely grown in strength as a person. It was hard to tell.

I hate to do a Peter Gilmour and digress from the story so I will get back on track now. I placed the Television title back on the passenger’s seat before driving into the city. I am almost certain i would regret it but it was the only thing I could do.

When I got there, I scurried through crowds and crowds of people. Truro had never been a busy place but it seemed as though every man and his dog was out and about tonight.

A woman walked into ‘Topshop’ and she looked exactly like Lacey, so I followed her, but then I turned and saw Mark heading past a hot dog van. Then Stewart, and Blaine, and Morgan, and Pierre.

Everyone I had ever loved. They were emerging in the streets. Or so it seemed.

And then I awoke, asleep in my car in the middle of Truro.

No one was around though.

The city was ominously quiet. My time to save Morgan was almost certainly running out..

The last part must have been nothing. Merely a dream in magical mist.

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